


roommate from hell

by johnnys



Category: The Boyz (Korea Band)
Genre: ATEEZ - Freeform, Alternate Universe - College/University, Astro - Freeform, F/M, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Moonbae, Woosan, but its ok, eunwoo is hot, guitarist!jacob, hockeyplayer!kevin, i still can't write anything without wooyoung, jacob has a band, literally none of the other tbz members are here, san is a sleaze, stray kids - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-01-13 04:51:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21238475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/johnnys/pseuds/johnnys
Summary: "i'd rather share with satan, thanks."in which junior jacob bae and sophomore kevin moon become roommates for a year at seoul national university.(and they hate it.)





	1. pigs in blankets

**Author's Note:**

> this was originally a big one-shot on my wp but i decided to split it into more chapters and continue the story :) enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> jacob arrives back in korea for his junior year, only to find that his new roommate doesn't want him.

roommate.

the word is stuck firmly in jacob bae's mind, invading his other thoughts about seoul national university and junior year, and his music scholarship, and _hong kong time machine_ \- the band he started back in his freshman days. the wheels on his suitcase skip over the cracks in the cobblestones, and he breathes in the smell of seoul nightlife.

it's nice to be back.

things will be different this year, though. he's moving into a new dorm, one of the ensuites in the apartment block near the university - the tall one, with enough floors to break through the city smog and touch the stars. according to the sleep-deprived staff member at the student centre just now, it's a shared room on the top floor: one bedroom, one bathroom, one roommate. jacob wonders whether he'll be able to see the stars.

"roommate," jacob mutters under his breath, the english word rolling off his tongue in his canadian accent.

_what would he be like?_ the roommate remains an intriguing mystery in jacob's mind. he suddenly finds himself picturing movie nights and midnight feasts; cooking breakfast together, brushing teeth together, becoming closer than brothers. his new roommate could be anyone - a sportsman, a fellow musician, a confidant, a friend.

jacob shakes the thoughts away as he heads away from the student centre and towards his new dorm. he shouldn't get his hopes up too much. maybe they'll have nothing in common, or not even see much of each other at all. maybe his new roommate will hate him, or always be out of the dorm, or worse - always bring girls back _to_ the dorm.

maybe they just won't click.

and yet jacob just can't help thinking about it - about what his third year in seoul will bring. he thought about it on the plane from canada to south korea, and in the taxi from the airport to the university. he was still thinking about it whilst lugging his heavy suitcase and guitar case out of the taxi. and he's still thinking about it now.

"half past two," jacob mumbles, checking the time on his phone.

the building looms far above his head as jacob shoulders through the doors, guitar case on the other shoulder as he drags the suitcase behind him. he presses the button on the elevator, and then he waits.

he lived in the tiniest of rooms during freshman year, and he had to walk down a very long corridor to reach the bathroom whenever he needed it. sophomore year was spent rooming with the drummer of his band, which almost led jacob down the road to a smoking addiction. jacob hopes that this year will be better, and that he'll have more space for all of his stuff, and he won't have to dart down the corridor in nothing but a towel after a shower, like he sometimes had to when he forgot a change of clothes.

it'll be better. for sure.

jacob fumbles in his pockets to find the sheet with his dorm number on, squinting at black lettering as he goes upwards, a big yawn escaping his lips. it's so late now that it's early, and jacob is bone tired. he would've caught an earlier flight over, but they'd left it too late to book. all he can think about now is what it will feel like to collapse into a soft mattress and fall asleep.

but he still has the issue of getting to his dorm in the first place.

"dorm one-thirteen," jacob reads aloud as he exits the elevator. he's suddenly consumed by darkness, unsure of which way to turn as he tries to find the right room.

is his new roommate an early bird or a night owl? surely they won't still be up at two thirty, jacob reasons. maybe that'll make it easier for him to just sneak in and go to bed. although, it might also make it more awkward in the morning.

with worn out arms, jacob pulls the suitcase along, reading the numbers on the doors as he shuffles along the corridor. he's too tired to even consider what a mess he looks: tangled hair sticking up in every direction, dark circles under his eyes, and his hoodie stained from the subway he'd eaten earlier.

_113_.

jacob gives a rather loud a sigh of relief. the number on the door matches the one on his papers - _success!_ now it's just the small matter of finding the key in one of his pockets and letting himself into the dorm itself.

the lights are out when he unlocks the door and pokes his head into the dorm. the first thing jacob notices is that it's... eerily quiet. as he steps carefully inside, the only sound to be heard is the floor creaking a little underfoot, and his suitcase wheels rolling over the floorboards. jacob feels a shiver run up his spine.

"hello?" he calls softly, taking a step into the small apartment. he expects his new roommate to be in bed, asleep, of course, so it seems pointless to call out that quietly. but it's like jacob has switched on horror movie mode, and his body is preparing itself for a jump scare.

insufficiently, it seems.

_snort!_

jacob jumps, startled at the piggish snort that resounds from further into the dorm. the passageway is narrow, with a small bathroom on his left, a closet on his right, and the bedroom directly in front of him. leaving his stuff piled by the door, jacob dares to venture into the main part of the dorm - the bedroom - and investigate the mystery of the pig invaders for himself.

what he doesn't expect to find is a corpse lying dead in the middle of the room.

"shit," jacob hisses, clutching at his chest to calm his lurching heart, "oh my god, you fucking scared me."

sprawled across the rug between the two single beds is a boy in a seoul university varsity jacket, a shock of black hair messy on his head, and mouth gaping open, emitting loud snores - which would explain the pig noises.

jolted abruptly awake at jacob's curses, the pig on the floor peers up at him and scrambles to his feet, instinctively reaching for a lethal-looking ice hockey stick and swinging it inches from jacob's head.

"hey, hey, wait," jacob rambles quickly, blurting out a stream of english as he holds up both hands in surrender, "please don't kill me, i'm sorry for waking you up, and i-"

"you speak english," the pig observes sleepily, fixing jacob with a frown.

"so do you," jacob returns, a little surprised at the pig's canadian accent that is so similar to his own, despite being more nasal in tone. he smiles and holds out his hand, eager to make a good first impression. "i'm jacob, i'm from toronto and-"

"don't care," the pig yawns, shooing him away with the hockey stick, "get out."

jacob drops his hand, put out by his new roommate's attitude. "but this is my dorm," he objects.

"no, i think you'll find that this is _my_ dorm," the pig corrects him, looking more pissed by the second, "and i hate sharing so i'd appreciate it if you could pack your bags and leave."

"they're already packed-"

"brilliant!" the pig in the varsity jacket gives the fakest smile and prods him with the hockey stick, pushing him towards the door, "bye, jacob from toronto, have a nice life-"

"hey," jacob says firmly in protest, grabbing the hockey stick prying it out of the sportman's hands, "this is my dorm too, okay? so i'm sorry, but you'll just have to suck it up and learn to share."

"you can't talk to me like that-"

"yeah, i can," jacob says, and it's only now that he fully realises he's been having an entirely english conversation with this guy, "now, i'm tired as shit so i'd like it if you could introduce yourself and we could both go to bed."

the pig folds his arms across his chest, but with jacob in possession of his only weapon, he has no choice but to back down. "fine," he snaps, "i'm kevin. kevin moon."

jacob releases a breath he didn't even know he was holding. "are you from canada too?" he guesses.

"mhm. vancouver."

determined to make amends and move on, jacob holds out his hand again. "well, it's nice to meet you, kevin from vancouver." he waits, and after a beat kevin reluctantly shakes his hand this time.

kevin moon is just shorter than jacob, with ink black hair and a narrow jaw. his face seems permanently fixed in the most surly expression, all frown and irritated pout. he doesn't look pleased to be sharing, and seemed to be under the impression that he could use a two-person room all by himself for the year. the reality check only deepens the canyon between his furrowed brows.

"are you _really_ sure you're in the right room?"

  
jacob lets out something between a sigh and a laugh and pushes the hockey stick back in kevin's hands. he sinks into the empty bed that isn't covered with the other boy's things, and takes off the scuffed-up black and white checkered vans he's had on for over twelve hours.

"here," he says, handing over the sheet from the student centre with all of his information on.

kevin glances over it, makes a noise of discontent, and hands it back. "you stink," he remarks, before rolling back on top of all the mess on his mattress.

"look, i get it that you don't want a roommate-"

"no," comes kevin's muffled interruption, "i mean you _stink_. like, you smell awful."

"gee," jacob scoffs, "thanks."

"no, seriously," kevin gags, "is that subway on your shirt?"

jacob gives a tired grin. "yep, a foot-long BLT."

"ew."

ignoring kevin's noises of disgust, jacob wriggles out of the subway-stained hoodie and dumps it on the floor near his bed, and then crawls under the covers until he's comfortable. sleep was scarce on the long plane ride, and it's all jacob can think of now.

"you really aren't going to shower?" kevin sits up in the bed across the room, staring at the back of jacob's head, offended.

"nope."

"you're disgusting," kevin tells him, but jacob doesn't move at all, and definitely not in the direction of the shower. "hey. are you even listening to me?"

the issue of kevin moon has drifted to the back of jacob's mind now, and he is drifting off into a deep sleep - to a place where he doesn't live thousands of miles away from his family, and his band is actually successful, and his new roommate doesn't despise him.

after a long time, kevin yawns and mumbles, "goodnight, subway."

just like jacob feared, the boys in room one-thirteen don't exactly have much in common. sure, they're both students at seoul national university, and they're both foreigners - both from canada at that. but that isn't a whole lot of common ground.

the truth is jacob bae and kevin moon couldn't be more different if they tried. kevin is into sports, while jacob is into music. kevin likes things to be clean, whereas jacob doesn't care quite as much. kevin has a head of healthy dark hair, and jacob's is a bleached mess of a nameless colour.

but most of all, jacob bae wants to see the best in people, think optimistically, and hope for the best.

and kevin moon doesn't try.


	2. hong kong time machine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> jacob has a traumatic morning experience and is late to band practice.

_shit_.

that's pretty much the only word that jacob can come up with to describe his monday morning experience with new roommate kevin moon. at least, it's the only word his exhausted brain can process after lectures finish that day at six. people who say that mondays aren't that bad clearly aren't on his music course. monday's the only day packed with classes and it sucks.

it sucks even more when you're jacob bae and you've stumbled off a long haul flight from toronto to seoul the night before, and suffered through the morning from hell. (jacob is so jet-lagged that he's starting to believe that kevin moon is actually the spawn of satan.)

"geez, dude, you look like shit," sniggers choi san who catches him up outside the campus library.

choi san is the definition of the word irresponsible: flirtatious, foul-mouthed and utterly unpredictable. he's got red in his hair, rips in his knees, and he's the last person jacob would expect to find near the campus library. the closest san has come to the library doors is probably waiting for a hot catch to finish studying so he could seduce them into sleeping with him. he's a sophomore, despite being the same age as jacob, since his bad habit of slacking off left him to resit his last year of high school.

he's also the drummer in jacob's band, _hong kong time machine_, and a damn good one at that, though arguably the worst influence on jacob's life.

jacob snorts and shrugs off the arm that san slings over his shoulders. "and you smell like shit," he remarks, nods at the cigarette between his friend's fingers.

san lets his arm fall and digs through the back pocket of his jeans with a smirk. "you sound stressed. want one?"

"heck yeah."

so san tips out the contents of a rattling packet of cigarettes and passes one to jacob, fishing out his lighter to get him started. and with one drag jacob's a little less sleep-deprived, and kevin is a little less of a bitch, and the day overall is a little less shit. and jacob exhales.

"so, rough night?" san breathes, smoke curling around his words, and his eyebrows twitch suggestively.

"do you ever think about anything else?" jacob grumbles, scuffing those checkered vans on the pavement as a whole wave of inappropriate thoughts enter his head.

"you can say it, jacob," san snickers, skipping to catch up with the taller boy at the next glowering streetlamp, "_sex_. gay sex, in fact, for you. nothing to be ashamed of-"

"could you say it any louder?" jacob lets out a puff of smoke through an irritated sigh and reaches out to flick san's temple. san just laughs, amused.

"jet-lagged?"

"mhm. and my new roommate's the fucking worst."

"ugh, can't be worse than mine," san argues, "he's all, i don't know, _soft_, even though he's one of those ice hockey guys, and he doesn't like it when i smoke so i can't do it inside _or_ out the window, _and_ he asked me not to swear. bullshit."

"you think that's bad?" jacob scoffs, and they turn the corner down another dimly lit side street. "i wish my roommate was soft."

"oh? what's he like?"

jacob groans.

_ **MORNING: DORM 113.** _

_"are you fucking kidding me?" comes the voice through the thin walls of the ensuite, and jacob suddenly wishes he can't understand the english language._

_the shower's still running and his music's still playing but it doesn't do much to mask the angry stomps of kevin's nikes or the string of curses that snake through the gap under the bathroom door. jacob squints and starts rubbing the shampoo into his hair. he also suddenly wishes he still had no idea who in hell kevin moon even is._

_"you couldn't have showered at any point during the last two hours?" is kevin's next complaint, punctuated by a hard palm against the wood of the bathroom door._

_jacob ignores him, still half asleep, still majorly jet-lagged, lips mouthing the words to the song currently playing. he'd only woken up around ten minutes ago and had thrown himself into the shower to allow himself more time to sleep before his first lecture of the day began. with kevin having disappeared so early, jacob had figured he wouldn't be back, but his sleep-clogged brain had obviously thought wrong._

_"get out!" kevin yells, and all of a sudden he's bursting into the tiny ensuite bathroom in his hockey kit, hair glistening with sweat and eyes glistening with animosity. "i always have a shower straight after 6AM practice."_

_"jesus, kevin! what the hell?!" jacob reaches for his towel at top speed, shampoo running into his eyes, and he wraps it around his waist because being half naked in front of kevin is better than being completely naked and covered in shampoo._

_there's a hesitation then, filled with bring me the horizon playing from jacob's phone. and if jacob could see through the shampoo stinging at the back of his retinas, maybe he'd see the embarrassed blush spreading across kevin's cheeks. or maybe that's just from hockey practice._

_"next time, shower earlier," kevin barks heartlessly, and then he's physically kicking jacob out of the ensuite and locking the door behind him._

_damnit. jacob should've locked the door._

_ **PRESENT.** _

san's laughing at him and jacob feels vaguely offended.

"it's not funny," he complains, "i had to wait, like, _forty_ minutes for him to shower so i could wash the fucking shampoo out of my hair. then he accused me of using his shampoo, which i didn't, and told me to work out more, which was _rude_, and then i was late for my lecture. the professor called me out in front of the whole class."

"okay, okay," san wheezes, and jacob isn't sure whether it's because of how regularly he smokes or that he's just laughing up his lungs instead, "i'll take my soft boy roommate any day of the week. fuck, hockey players are a bunch of shit."

  
"_fuck_," jacob breathes in agreement, somewhat glad to have gotten that ugly rant off his chest, even to someone like san. then again, maybe san is the best person to spill to in cases like these.

"finish that." san nods at the dwindling cigarette between jacob's fingers, and they stop by the ash pan next to the bus stop across the road from _kim kim chicken _\- the restaurant with its lights blinking neon orange into the darkening evening. san outs his cigarette and flicks the butt into the trash. jacob follows, hands deep in the pockets of his jacket (which is so oversized, and the denim is so worn, that san often asks what drugs he's hiding in it) and they take off across the road, dodging cars, until they reach the front doors of the chicken place.

"hi, mrs kim!" san chimes as they push through a crowd of bustling students leaving the restaurant and walk up to the counter. "you're looking especially lovely today, by the way."

mrs kim smiles, but rolls her eyes at san's comment. "i saw you boys smoking outside," she remarks.

"don't tell woojin?" san begs, flashing the same half-grin that gets any potential lover in his bed. mrs kim swats him away with one hand and goes back to making a phone call at the till.

"more like _don't tell eunwoo_," jacob corrects, nudging san's shoulder and leading the way downstairs, "we're already late. he's gonna kill us."

the two of them descend into the basement below the restaurant, where keyboard chords clash with bass guitar riffs and pointless chatter. the place is decked out with a million fairylights and every broken restaurant chair, and amongst it all is lead singer cha eunwoo, and bassist kim woojin who splits his time between band practice and part time work at his parents' restaurant.

and they've both been waiting at least half an hour for the other half of the band to turn up.

"yeah, yeah, i know, we're late to the party," san rambles in some sort of apology for his tardiness as he jumps behind the drumkit, "but to be fair, jacob was telling me about his shitty new roommate. it was a long story."

"hey, this isn't my fault," jacob objects, "i was waiting ages outside the library for you to show." he reaches for his favourite guitar and starts strumming gently.

"we're never gonna finish this EP," cha eunwoo sighs.

he's undeniably the best member of the band in all ways possible - most attractive, sweetest voice, most desirable, pretty much another synonym for the phrase _tall dark and handsome_. with soft black hair and incredible dress sense, it's no wonder he's the biggest catch, and is constantly turning down confessions from girls.

jacob isn't complaining though. it's practically free advertising for the band, after all. and besides, jacob isn't interested in getting a girlfriend.

"whatever, can we just start practising?" asks kim woojin, glancing up at the clock on the wall.

it ticks too loud, but at least it reminds the band of all of their time limits when it comes to band practice. they might be able to use woojin's basement, but woojin himself isn't always a constant in the practice room. he's often pulled out to help with large orders at the restaurant, and of course he does it without question. he's that kinda guy - kind and selfless, neat brown haircut, a few years too mature for his age already.

"sure, let's go," jacob nods. he pulls up the hood of his sweatshirt and starts playing, losing himself in the song.

yep, this is it. this is why he's back for another year on a music degree course.

they make it about forty minutes until woojin is needed upstairs in the restaurant, and when eunwoo remarks on this time frame jacob is instantly reminded of the long forty minutes he spent locked out of the bathroom with shampoo in his eyes that morning. it hasn't even been twenty-four hours yet and already kevin moon is invading his thoughts and making his life a misery.

"yeah, dad!" woojin calls as the fire door at the top of the basement steps closes again. "alright, sorry guys, i don't know how long i'll-"

"it's fine," eunwoo interrupts, shooing him away with an upwards nod, "i think we should finish practice for today anyway. jacob looks like he's gonna pass out."

"you're not wrong," woojin laughs, "i'll see you guys then." he disappears into the restaurant and the other three start slowly packing up.

"seriously, jacob, you should get some sleep," eunwoo advises, eyeing the canadian's dishevelled state with a smile.

"try sleeping when you're rooming with the devil." jacob's hands go to the bottom of his jacket pockets again and he sinks into The Most Battered Couch In Korea, otherwise known as woojin's old family sofa (which was replaced recently with a competitor from ikea).

"how bad really is this roommate of yours?" eunwoo asks with skepticism, fingers still dancing idly over the keyboard.

"oh, from what i've heard, he's a bitch," is san's input from over by the drumkit, soon followed by that wicked grin of his, "what _i_ wanna know is whether he's hot."

"san, you can't just sleep with every living thing," eunwoo reasons.

"and you can't fuck my roommate," jacob adds, glaring in san's direction from deep within the couch cushions.

"well, i'm pretty sure i could, if i gave it a go," san argues. he twirls one of the drum sticks between his fingers and the smirk on his face makes jacob want to gag.

"no, i mean i'm pretty sure you can't," jacob amends, "like, i swear he doesn't even have a soul. it would be like screwing pure evil."

san's tongue appears between his teeth and he winks in jacob's direction. "sounds pretty hot to me."

"you're gross," eunwoo tells him, and starts putting his sheet music away into his satchel.

jacob just sinks further into the sofa and wonders how many minutes of sleep he could get before the band members or woojin's parents would find him and tell him to go home. his dorm really didn't feel like home yet, not after that morning's trauma.

if jacob had a time machine, like the dumb name of his college band, he'd go back in time and break into the student finance office or something to switch the roomings. he'd share with san instead, or even san's 'soft boy' roommate.

_anyone_ was better than kevin moon at this point.


	3. yuri on ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kevin can't concentrate on hockey training, and can't stop complaining about his new roommate.

"kevin... are you okay? that's the third shot you've missed in a row..."

the puck sails past him on the ice and doesn't stop, skimming the surface until it hits the side. wooyoung's looking at him in concern with those big soft eyes of his, dragging him back to reality. kevin breathes in a mouthful of cold air.

"what?" kevin looks down at his hockey stick and frowns. he had been staring at the puck when wooyoung had passed it to him, but for some reason his arm just hadn't moved to pass it back.

"i said are you okay?" wooyoung presses, careful not to tread too hard. "it's just... we've only just started the warm-up."

"i'm fine," kevin insists, though he is a little more tired than usual, and his thoughts have been thoroughly scrambled.

that makes him think of scrambled egg, and beans on toast, and bacon sizzling away ready to be eaten with a cool glass of orange juice. oh yeah, he hasn't eaten breakfast this morning. not even cereal.

(kevin wonders whether jacob can cook. and if jacob likes cereal too.)

"okay..." wooyoung skates away to retrieve the puck, the sound of his skates on the ice breaking through kevin's train of thought.

jung wooyoung is a blonde-haired, ilsan-born sophomore with a sweet disposition and a tendency to befriend anyone willing to talk to him. he's been blonde for so long that kevin sometimes forgets it's not his natural colour. he maintains his roots, and kevin knows for a fact that wooyoung uses some kind of hair oil every time he showers to keep it soft and silky.

"right," says wooyoung, returns with the puck at the end of his stick, "let's go again, okay...?"

_ **5:46AM.** _

_kevin's used to waking up at crazy o'clock for hockey practice, even on the first day of sophomore year. he does all the things he usually does whilst half asleep: brush teeth, change into kit, reply to wooyoung's wake-up reminder text, stare at jacob bae's sleeping form for a good five minutes until he's running late-_

_no. not that last part._

_it's weird, though. staring at jacob like that. kevin feels like a vampire or something, and he's suddenly reminded of the twilight movies, and how edward constantly watches bella sleep. kevin's sure this is a little less creepy. just a little._

_jacob sleeps all stretched out, tangled in his bedsheets, eyes closed, lips slightly parted, that bleach-fried hair messy across the pillow. he looks nicer when he sleeps, kevin observes, not grouchy, or annoyed, or trying too hard to make a good impression. the rolling stones tee is faded and baggy and kevin wrinkles his nose at jacob's fashion sense (or lackthereof in his opinion) but what he's really looking at are jacob's exposed arms. does he work out? how can he have any definition at all when he's just another one of those lanky band geeks?_

_"shit," kevin whispers, breath hitched as jacob rolls over in his sleep, letting out something between a moan and a sigh and nuzzling his cheek in the pillow._

_he drops the hockey stick in surprise and scrambles to catch it before it hits the floor. kevin fails. as usual. it clatters against the floor boards, accompanied by the joyous squeaking of kevin'_ _s nikes, and his face flushes in embarrassment. jacob doesn't stir. thank god._

_kevin runs a hand through his dark locks and shifts from foot to foot. shit, he needs to shower. he picks up the hockey stick and looks at the time on his phone. _

_"goddamnit."_

_he's late. and it's all jacob's fault._

_(that stupid guitar freak.)_

_ **PRESENT.** _

"kevin, you have to pass back to me, you know... that's the point of the warmup..."

right. practice.

kevin shakes the thoughts out of his head and does a quick figure of eight on the ice to try and get back in the zone. "yeah, yeah, sorry," he says, back in position, "let's go again."

wooyoung's still eyeing him dubiously. 

"i said i'm fine," kevin insists, nodding for him to pass the puck, "i'm just kinda tired, okay? i was up at two this morning..."

"really? how come?" and those eyebrows raised in concern are back.

kevin grunts at the thought of his new roommate, and all of the mess he brings with him. they go back to passing the hockey puck between them, since the team captain kim hongjoong is keeping an eye on them. "my roommate arrived."

"_oh_... what's he like?"

"an ass," kevin blurts. he dodges to one side and sends the puck flying hard past anywhere wooyoung was expecting. 

"hey!" trying not to grumble, wooyoung goes after the puck again and skates back, passing to kevin with a small sigh. "i'm sure he isn't that bad," he tells him. "my roommate's a chain smoker, almost."

"how can someone _almost_ be a chain smoker," kevin drawls.

wooyoung shrugs, lower lip pouts out as he thinks about it. "i don't know," he says, "i don't know how much he smokes. but i had to ask him not to smoke in the room. or on the balcony, you know, 'cause the smell still goes inside."

"how did he take that?"

a tiny crease works its way between wooyoung's eyebrows and the pout doesn't go away. "he told me to fuck off," he mumbles.

kevin can't help but laugh, and wooyoung glares at him. (well, he glares as best as he can, at least. that boy couldn't throw a dirty look at someone if his life depended on it.)

*

when jacob gets back to the dorm later that night, kevin almost goes into evacuation mode: music off, earphones in, a youtube video up and playing in case the other canadian tries to make conversation. in his panic, he forgets about the specs perched on the bridge of his nose.

kevin doubts he will. _he_ was an ass to him this morning. but jacob was messing up his schedule, so it was his fault really.

unfortunately for kevin, jacob keeps insisting on pretending to be the fakest nice person he's ever met. it's infuriating. and of course he tries to talk.

"were you listening to music?" he says through a yawn, kicking the door shut behind him on his way in. he smells faintly of fried chicken and smoke. "i thought i could hear it from the hall."

"no, i wasn't," kevin says quickly. he's glad that his earphones are plugged in, or one wrong click could send _beyonce_ back through his phone speaker, and he'd be so horrifyingly exposed.

jacob just shrugs, doesn't give kevin another glance, throws himself onto his bed (which is already a mess and it hasn't even been twenty four hours yet.)

_he's mad about earlier._

is he? kevin isn't sure. but he doesn't care what jacob thinks, and if jacob is going to cut into kevin's shower time, then kevin can't possibly consider forming any sort of alliance with the guy. period.

"where have you been?"

the words spill out before kevin can stop them. why the hell would he ask that? it's not as if he has any interest at all in jacob's whereabouts, and he certainly doesn't care why he's back at the dorm so late. but yet he asks.

jacob's eyes are closed and for a moment it seems like he's progressed to the next stage of anger: the silent treatment. but jacob isn't like that, and he answers the question. "i was at band practice," he replies, voice thick and breathy with exhaustion.

"mhm."

"we're preparing our debut EP."

"right."

"and we'll probably sign up for _battle of the bands_ this year too."

"okay, but did i ask?"

kevin glances over at jacob's bed, scowling the best he can when jacob isn't even looking at him. he's wearing an enormous jacket that kevin can only describe as ugly, and his style overall (is shit) makes him look like something between a skater boy and a stoner.

(it's probably closer to the latter.)

jacob turns his head towards him, curled up in a fetal position within that huge jacket of his. "we're pretty popular on campus, you know. _hong kong time machine_? you might know us."

kevin stubbornly shakes his head. "nope," he says. that's a lie. of course he's heard of _hong kong time machine_. every university girl and her dog has heard of that dumb band. "that's the dumbest band name i've ever heard."

he expects jacob to get offended but he just snickers and rolls over, like some kind of sleepy puppy. "yeah," he agrees, "none of us are even from hong kong. we just thought it sounded cool."

"well it sounds lame."

kevin ignores him again after that, or at least for the duration that jacob doesn't talk. he pretends to be texting some non-existent friend while jacob brushes his teeth and dumps his clothes on the floor to get changed ready for bed. it's that same baggy _rolling stones_ t-shirt, and the ugliest pair of grey sweatpants.

"so," and suddenly jacob's standing over him with his arms crossed, "are you gonna apologise for earlier?"

kevin continues to scowl.

"no."

"well, you should," jacob says, frown deepening between his brows, "my day was really shit because of you."

"don't care."

jacob lets out a sharp exhale and tugs the earphones out of kevin's ears to get him to listen. kevin throws down his phone with a huff and folds his arms across his chest in a way that mirrors how jacob is standing. kevin doesn't like being on this side of an argument. he likes to be the one making the accusations and demanding apologies.

_it's not my fault. jacob's an ass._

"i had to wake up at half five, okay?" he finally snaps, "half five. i was tired as shit because _you_ woke me up, but i went to train anyway. i always shower the minute i get back from hockey practice, and that isn't going to change just because of you. got it?"

for a moment, it seems like jacob is about to complain about being dragged out of the ensuite in a towel, or having shampoo in his eyes for forty minutes, but he doesn't. instead, he says,

"so you ice skate? like _yuri on ice_?"

kevin snorts. "seriously? you watch anime? _that_ anime?"

"it's good!" jacob protests, and he backs off slightly, a grin playing on his lips, "you're like... kevin on ice, then."

"don't you dare call me that." kevin wrinkles his nose. "besides, i do ice hockey. not figure skating."

"alright, yuri."

kevin's mouth gapes open in disgust as jacob retreats to his bed and sinks into the mattress. "you're a bitch," he spits out, insulted.

jacob scoffs, wriggling under the covers and turning over. "you're worse," he responds, "my lectures start at eleven tomorrow, so don't wake me up."

"wouldn't dream of it," kevin drawls.

"night, yuri."

_fuck you._

(kevin doesn't realise he said that out loud.)


	4. incidental

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kevin won't apologise, but he will show up to jacob's band's first gig of the semester.

it's the end of the first week, and kevin still hasn't apologised.

jacob has complained about it so much that san has started to keep count of the number of days it still hasn't happened yet. woojin says that jacob should say sorry instead, even when '_he hasn't even done anything_' and eunwoo agrees because '_the apology's never going to happen, jacob_'.

the dorm has been pretty quiet in the mean time, what with kevin out at hockey practice almost every day, sometimes leaving early and finishing late. jacob's spent every spare minute working on his music, both in class and out. _'this EP won't write itself'_, is woojin's catchline these days, which san tells him sounds exactly like his mother. and so there hasn't been much room for confrontation _or_ conversation, leaving a stagnant silence between jacob and his roommate.

there was _one_ instance where kevin yelled at him to keep his shit on his side of the dorm, and another where jacob took a purposefully extended shower to piss kevin off. jacob also made another subtle yuri on ice reference that he thought would go over kevin's head, but kevin still told him to fuck off.

other than the few odd occasions, though, things haven't been too bad. jacob noticed that kevin tidied his shoes once, and sharing the bathroom hasn't been too much of a problem after the first day.

but kevin still hasn't apologised.

another week goes by, and the essays and assignments begin, and jacob spends all of his time in the library trying to keep on top of it all when he's not holed up in the music studio on campus trying to get some ideas for the EP down. he barely sees kevin, and things stay the same.

kevin still won't say sorry.

"i dunno, man," san says by the time the weekend rolls around and the band are setting up for a gig in one of the bars in hongdae that evening, "maybe you should just give up."

jacob winces, both at san's remark and the screeching feedback that fills the bar when he plugs the wrong cord into the amp for his electric guitar. "i can't forgive him until he apologises, san," he reasons, still hung up over the whole matter.

"then ignore him," san shrugs, "he's just your roommate. it's not like you even see much of each other."

jacob just sighs, and tries to change the topic. the problem is he _wants_ to get along with kevin, maybe even be friends with the guy, and san will probably never understand. "well, how's it going with your roommate?"

san sits down behind the drum kit and taps one of the sticks against his chin as he thinks. "it's not so bad," he admits, "he's kind of hot, to be honest. maybe if i ask, he'll let me do him."

jacob throws a disgusted glance over his shoulder. "are you serious?"

san just laughs at jacob's reaction. "i bet he'd agree to anything i say if i'm nice to him," he says, "he's that type of person, i think. maybe if i flirt with him, he'll warm up a bit."

"not everyone wants you to fuck them, san."

"you secretly do."

jacob rolls his eyes and fights the urge to shove san off the drum stool. "you're not my type," he tells him rather pointedly.

"jacob," san sighs, with that twinkle in his eyes, "i'm everybody's type."

eunwoo steps up onto the elevated platform the hongdae bar calls a stage. "are you two going to keep talking, or finish setting up?" he says, raising a brow at them both. (he's wearing well-fitting jeans and a white shirt, and if jacob and san could agree on anything, it would be that eunwoo actually _is_ everyone's type.)

"hey, you're one to talk," san snorts. "you were talking to that girl by the bar for at least fifteen minutes."

eunwoo shrugs. his eyes flicker back to the girl at the bar - a tall, slim girl with long, straight hair. she's probably one of the girls that can get any guy she wants, whether he's the student body president, or the ice hockey team captain, or even _hong kong time machine's_ very own cha eunwoo.

"her name's doyeon," eunwoo says.

and san says, "nobody asked," and they finish setting up in preparation for tonight's performance.

it's not until they finish the first half of the set that jacob even makes out any faces in the crowd. the bar's pretty full, and the response to their song covers and original songs is good so far, and jacob's on a high.

that is, until he spots kevin's face.

he's standing awkwardly at the back of the bar, almost too far away to catch jacob's eye, but jacob could probably spot kevin from a mile away. he's in a button-down and skinny jeans and a crimson bomber jacket, and jacob is surprised to see his hair pulled back from his forehead. come to think of it, he's pretty sure he's never seen kevin in anything other than hockey kit and pyjamas. the yellowy bar lights dance across kevin's face, and with the sound of the crowd ringing in his ears, jacob is mesmerised.

"jacob," eunwoo says, and suddenly the entire band is staring at him expectantly.

"huh?"

"you play the opening riff," woojin reminds him from where he stands on the other side of eunwoo.

jacob nearly drops his guitar as he rushes to get his brain back inside his head and pick out the opening riff to the next song. the twang of electric guitar strings hums through the amp and the next song on the set list finally gets going. (jacob isn't sure how long he spaced out staring at kevin, and he doesn't really want to know.)

once they finish their last song and the gig is well and truly over, the band disperses into the crowd. eunwoo is instantly ambushed by a storm of college girls eager for a selfie or his number, woojin packs up to finish the last shift at his family's restaurant, and san makes a beeline for the bar. jacob runs a hand through sweaty hair and follows. he could do with a drink. something like a cold beer, or kevin moon to fuel his adrenaline. no, not kevin moon. definitely _not_.

_what is he even thinking?_

jacob orders that cold beer and leans against the bar counter to wait for it. he keeps a good few feet away from san, who is trying to hit on three or four girls at the same time. jacob doesn't want to be the one to tell him that none of them are really interested. the beer slides across the counter to him and jacob downs the top third of it in one gulp.

"can i have what he's having?"

jacob looks up.

it's kevin. kevin's still here. he must've stayed for the entire set, maybe with a friend, maybe alone. jacob can't come up with a good enough reason why kevin would do that, so he sips his beer and says nothing.

"it was a good show."

jacob's eyes flick upwards to catch a quick glance of kevin casually drinking his beer, like he didn't just shoot him a compliment. "really?"

"yeah," kevin grudgingly tells him, "the band name still sucks though."

"no, it doesn't." jacob frowns, stubborn.

"it so does."

"seriously-"

"jacob bae!" san declares as he strides over, throwing an arm over each of their shoulders and pulling them both together. "who's this - new boyfriend? he's pretty hot, like i'd f-"

"san," jacob cuts in, a rosy flush rising to his cheeks as he clears his throat, "this is my roommate. kevin."

"oh..." san says in realisation, drawing out the vowel for an uncomfortable length of time. "i see how it is. you single, kevin?"

jacob can barely meet kevin's eyes. as far as he is aware, jacob has never mentioned his sexuality to his roommate, or even left any hints. with that personality, jacob isn't sure how kevin will react if he figures it out.

kevin hesitates under san's keen gaze. "um," he says, and it feels like the longest pause before he answers, "...yeah."

for some reason, jacob finds himself releasing a breath he didn't even know he was holding.

"can i get your number?" san asks, a little too directly for jacob's liking. he might not get along with kevin still, but the thought of san making a move on him makes jacob feel uneasy.

"no," jacob blurts. he instantly hates himself for saying it.

"oh?" san smirks, observing the growing tension and how jacob is obviously flustered, and how kevin looks a little surprised, but like he's trying to hide it. "well," he goes on, "we usually go out clubbing after a good gig. you're very welcome to join us, kevin."

it's all jacob can do to not glare daggers into the side of san's skull.

"actually... i'm here with a friend, so..." kevin says, neither accepting nor declining the invitation.

san leans in closer, breath dancing across kevin's skin. "i'm sure i can keep your friend busy for a while," he murmurs, giving jacob a very meaningful sidelong glance.

jacob slams down his glass, trying to keep it together. "san, fuck off and go steal one of eunwoo's fangirls or something," he says a little sourly.

"sure, i'll leave you two _alone_." san flashes a smile that is so sugary it's more sickening than sweet, and heads across the bar to flirt with some more unsuspecting victims.

another three, or maybe four, beers go by and jacob isn't sure what time it is anymore. it's dark and the bar is slowly emptying, and for some reason he's still drinking with kevin. he's teased him about yuri on ice again, and kevin's insulted his band at least a dozen times by now, and it's probably approaching midnight before either of them make a move to stumble out into the street.

"we could just go home," kevin mumbles eventually.

"yeah," jacob agrees. his mind is in a bit of a fog, but he's pretty sure he and kevin are actually _getting along_. it's a weird feeling, but he doesn't protest. they get the bus back to the dorms and take the elevator up to the top floor, a little more giddy than either of them would usually be in public. ever.

"fuck, what's our room number?" kevin giggles, stepping onto the floor with a lurch.

jacob stares at him because kevin's giggle is too much all at once, and he's never heard such a sound come out of that boy's mouth before. they find the right room and one of them unlocks the door, and they stumble inside. jacob trips on the edge of the rug and brings kevin down with him, and they fall in an undignified heap on the floor.

"ouch," kevin groans, rubbing the spot where his elbow hit the floorboards.

"sorry," jacob says, heaving a sigh and rolling onto his back, exhausted.

they lie there for a bit, and it surprises jacob that kevin doesn't stalk off to his bed, or complain about how hard the floor is or about how everything is always _jacob's fault_. it's nice.

"you know, you have a nice voice," kevin mumbles.

a laugh escapes jacob's throat. "really?"

"mhm." kevin lets out a breathy moan as he rolls onto his side, clearly intoxicated, and it's kind of hot. jacob feels a heat spread through his body from his face down to his legs, and he hopes kevin is too drunk to notice.

"well, thanks," jacob manages to get out. he turns his head a fraction to glance at kevin, and immediately wishes he didn't. 

"don't get me wrong... you're still a loser," kevin says, unconsciously inching closer to jacob, "but i guess even you have some good qualities..."

"like what?" jacob scoffs.

"mhm... you have a nice voice?"

"you already said that."

"oh, yeah..." kevin laughs, "well, you're kinda considerate, i guess."

"i am?"

kevin nods. "you never bring girls back to the dorm."

"right."

"which isn't that surprising," kevin goes on obnoxiously, "seeing as you're probably a virgin-"

"hey!" colour blooms across jacob's cheeks and he stumbles over his words in the embarrassment and discomfort Drunk Kevin seems to enjoy thrusting upon him. "since- since when... how do you know if-"

"you radiate virgin energy, jacob."

"i do not!" jacob says hotly. "i bet you've never done it with anyone."

"i asked first."

"you never asked."

"fine, well i'm asking now."

jacob heaves a long sigh, rolling his eyes at kevin's persistence. "i have, actually," he admits, much to kevin's surprise and interest.

kevin's eyebrows shoot up and his eyes go wide with curiosity. "how many times?"

"twice."

kevin wriggles closer on the carpet, close enough to make jacob's breath hitch. "what was it like?"

jacob almost cracks a smile at that. "is this you admitting you're a virgin?"

"i will never confess," kevin declares, a pout on his lips. it's kinda, sorta cute.

they stay like that, sprawled together across the carpet, until jacob crawls over to reach under his bed for his alcohol stash. they drink some more, because jacob's nervous for reasons he can't even explain, and talk and laugh together about shit they'll never remember. it's weird, but they're both so intoxicated that it doesn't feel weird anymore. 

"jacob," kevin says, resting his head against jacob's shoulder, "have you ever kissed anybody?"

"of course i have, stupid." there's a weird sensation in jacob's chest, but it's buried so far beneath all the alcohol that he ignores it.

"are you good?" kevin asks.

jacob shrugs. "pretty good," he boasts. "better than you, probably."

kevin looks at the empty bottle in his lap, and the pout resumes its position on his face.

"have you not-?"

kevin shakes his head. _no._

"well..." jacob hesitates. somewhere amongst his thoughts is the warning that kevin doesn't even know he likes guys. what if he tells him and kevin freaks? _whatever,_ his head tells his worried heart, and he blurts,

"we could-"

just as kevin mumbles, "do you think-"

their eyes meet and jacob's gaze falls to kevin's lips. the room is cold but kevin's breath is warm as jacob leans in. he tilts his chin to connect their lips and moves his hands to roughly grip kevin's hips, and it's messy and unpredictable but jacob's gentle enough to handle kevin's lack of experience. kevin's weight shifts and jacob pulls him onto his lap, and kevin rakes his hands through jacob's hair. they kiss like that as dawn breaks, and the first fuzzy sight of the sun appears on the horizon. neither of them remembers what time they finally pass out and sleep 'til noon.

when they wake, they're tangled on the floor at the end of kevin's bed, and jacob's hand is up kevin's shirt, and the midday sun is filtered through the blinds.

and whether they can remember that night or not, they don't speak of the incident again.


	5. more than a kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kevin's pretty sure his little escapade with jacob is neither a listening problem nor a fixing problem. it's the kind of problem that should just delete itself out of existence.

the kiss is still preying on kevin's mind twenty-four hours later. _ it was more than a kiss _, his brain keeps reminding him, leaving that sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. he might have been wasted at the time, but kevin can still vividly recall the hazy feeling of being sat on jacob's lap, hands in jacob's hair, mouth on jacob's mouth. the pressure of jacob's lips against his is still there when kevin closes his eyes.

since waking to the heat of the sun of his face and jacob's hand up his shirt, kevin has been resolutely avoiding his roommate as much as possible. the situation is altogether too embarrassing to face, and that's if jacob _ doesn't _ remember anything that happened. kevin doesn't know how to act around him, wary of the shift in their awkward relationship. they were barely even friends before. now what?

the days go by and kevin drowns himself in uni work and hockey practise until jacob's touch is nothing but a faint memory. he leaves the dorm before jacob wakes up, and only returns late once jacob has gone to sleep. if he gets back first, kevin pretends to be sleeping when jacob comes home from band practise. 

kevin moon is an expert at avoiding his problems.

"he _ still _ smokes on the balcony," wooyoung is complaining at the end of hockey practise that week. "i think he does it when i'm out, though, but i can still smell it in the dorm when i get back."

"so tell him to stop," kevin suggests, mind adrift with other matters than wooyoung's problematic roommate.

"i've done that already!" wooyoung gives a huff and skates off the ice, kevin in tow. “he doesn’t listen to anything i say…”

“didn’t you tell him to stop smoking inside?” kevin points out. “he’s stopped, hasn’t he?”

wooyoung throws him a sulky expression as they push through the doors into the boys locker room. "i suppose," he mutters. "he's still a nightmare to live with, though. he always walks out of the shower like he lives alone, and he never washes up his dishes."

"what dishes? i thought you said he always eats takeout." kevin's eyes are narrowed at wooyoung's complaints. they both sit on the bench to unlace their ice skates, and wooyoung throws his pair weakly on the floor.

"exactly!" he says with a dissatisfied pout, "how can someone be so unhealthy?"

kevin rolls his eyes. "you can't have it both ways, woo," he scoffs. "if you care about his health that much, start cooking all his meals for him… and confiscating his cigarettes, and--"

"kevin, i'm not his _ mom _."

_ exactly _ . opening his locker door with the clang of metal on metal, kevin just shakes his head at his best friend. maybe it would be easier if jacob was more like wooyoung's roommate - rude and antisocial. it's so hard to be mean when jacob is so damn _ nice _ all the time. and avoiding him is even harder. kevin hates to admit it, but he misses the mornings that jacob would softly murmur _ good morning _ before rolling over and going back to sleep when kevin would leave early for hockey practise. that didn't happen this morning, because kevin left at the crack of dawn long before jacob would stir. it's both easier and so much harder this way.

"kevin, if you aren't going to listen to me, i'll go and complain to someone else."

kevin throws a towel at him from his locker and searches for a clean shirt and yesterday's jeans. "be my guest," he says.

when he turns around wooyoung throws the towel back in his face. "you're not helping my problem," wooyoung tells him.

"oh, i thought this was a 'listening' problem, not a 'fixing' problem," kevin replies, shooting his friend a withering smile.

"you like to complain as much as i do," wooyoung points out.

kevin tosses his towel over his shoulder and heads past him, jumping over wooyoung's foot as he tries to trip him up on the way. "i know," he says, "that's how i know it's just a listening problem. anyway, i'm gonna take a shower."

"just shower at your dorm."

"might as well just shower here," kevin says with a weak laugh, not turning back. "i'll see you tomorrow i guess."

"alright, see you for training."

alone in the shower stall, kevin marginally relaxes. he turns the water on and stands under it, flinching at the cold and then closing his eyes as it slowly warms up. the hot water down his back seems to loosen some of the tension in his muscles, and for a moment he forgets that he was even worked up about anything at all. 

and then the thought of _ jacob _ returns.

_ sitting on jacob's lab, jacob's hands gripping his hips-- _

"shit," kevin mutters under his breath. _ stop thinking about it already _. he feels his face flush. the shampoo runs into his eyes and it stings, and he stumbles around the shower stall blinking rapidly and trying his best to think about something else, anything else.

“hey, kevin, is that you?” calls a voice from outside the shower stall.

kevin nearly trips on the shampoo bottle that skids across the tiles. “uh… y-yeah!” he splutters, still internally cursing at the burning sensation in his retinas. he opens the door a crack and pokes his head out to see who’s standing outside.

it’s song mingi, and his tan skin that is all too exposed, down to his hips where his towel is tied. kevin can’t help but stare, eyes trailing over broad shoulders, toned arms and defined abs. He feels the heat rush to his face and he can only hope that mingi doesn’t notice. (but it’s also weird because of the thought of jacob that won’t leave his mind, and all of the things kevin could start imagining.)

“oh, hey,” mingi laughs. “um, hongjoong said he wanted to see you, so you should check in with him before he bites your head off or something.”

a bubble of nervous laughter escapes kevin’s throat. “oh, uh… right,” he says. “thanks for, um… telling me.”

“no worries!” mingi says cheerfully, apparently blind to kevin’s awkwardness around him. “i’ll let you get back to your shower then.”

kevin watches him go, unable to draw his eyes away from the muscles in mingi’s back. when mingi is well and truly out of sight, kevin slams the door of the shower stall shut and leans against it, breathing heavily. it’s too much, and not enough, all at once. memories flash through his mind, and he’s transported back to the night in their dorm, palms against the firm muscles in jacob’s chest, the sensation of jacob’s hot breath on his neck. he’s not supposed to remember any of it.

everything would be so much easier if his mind refused to remember.

kevin feels hot all over. 

then cold. 

he groans and finishes his shower. when he makes it out of the locker room, team captain kim hongjoong is waiting for him at the edge of the rink, gazing out at the lines on the ice.

“you… wanted to see me?”

hongjoong looks up at the sound of kevin’s voice and smiles briefly, shoving his hands in the pockets of his varsity jacket. “yeah, nothing bad, i promise,” he says. “just wanted to check in with you. everything okay?”

kevin clears his throat and scratches at the nape of his neck. “yeah,” he says quickly, “everything’s fine. why?”

“you’ve been coming in to train super early recently,” hongjoong remarks, breaching the subject as carefully as possible. “while it’s great, i was just wondering if there was anything bothering you.”

_ yes. jacob. jacob’s really bothering me. _

kevin just shakes his head. “like i said, everything’s good,” he assures him, hoping that hongjoong will just drop the subject as soon as possible.

hongjoong regards him for a moment, studying him through his overgrown bangs. “okay,” he says simply, clapping kevin on the shoulder, “well, if there ever is anything up, i’m always cool to talk. i’ll see you tomorrow then.”

kevin nods and watches him leave, breathing a sigh of relief. 

*

jacob knows.

almost two weeks have passed and kevin is still avoiding him. 

“so, dude, i’ve got to know,” says san on the walk to kim kim chicken for band practise one evening, “getting any action lately?”

jacob sighs, throws him a look. “do you ever think about anything other than sex?”

“nope.” san laughs, breathing out curls of smoke into the cool air. “so, are you gonna tell me?”

“i…” jacob hesitates before answering, “i haven’t done it with anyone recently.”

san’s eyes light up at the information. “the way you said that makes it sound like you didn’t fuck anyone, but… you did get up to something. blowjob? handjob? did you let him--”

“we only kissed, san,” jacob cuts him off, feeling his face heat up at the thought of doing any of that with kevin.

“_ you only kissed _…” san repeats slowly, mouth gaping wide. “kissed who?”

“would you look at that, we’re here,” jacob says loudly, looking at the traffic for a good time to cross the road. 

“hang on, let me just finish this,” san mutters, finishing the last of his cigarette and disposing of it carefully. he nags jacob all the way across the road and into the restaurant, desperate to know who jacob’s mysterious kissing partner is. “you can’t not tell me. i’m like your other half!”

“you wish,” jacob scoffs. “hi, mrs kim!”

“hello, boys,” says woojin’s mom with a smile. “we’re a little busy today, so we might need woojin for a bit longer. but you can head on down.”

usually, san would throw out a compliment to mrs kim, but today he yaps at jacob’s heels like an annoying little puppy. they head down to the basement, and san still doesn’t shut up. “who was it, jacob? tell me!”

“shut up and maybe i’ll tell you later,” jacob hisses, and that does the trick.

only eunwoo is already in the basement when they arrive, but there’s a tiny girl sitting on san’s drum kit with red hair braided loosely off her face. she and eunwoo are laughing about something, and jacob and san stop in the basement doorway in confusion.

“who’s this?” san questions immediately, making a beeline for his precious drum kit the moment he steps into the room. He doesn’t miss a chance to flirt though, and shoots the girl a wink. “you should give me a little warning before bringing such a cute girl over, eunwoo.”

“oh, is this the guy that flirts with anything?” the redhead pipes up, directing her question to eunwoo, who’s sitting at the keyboard, “like, even inanimate objects?”

“that’s him,” jacob confirms with a laugh. “hey, you must be pretty good at describing us, eunwoo.”

“yeah, he said you’re the gay one who looks like a stoner,” the girl supplies, which makes eunwoo splutter to try and handle the situation.

jacob’s face falls in surprise, but he slowly starts to nod. “you know, that’s actually pretty accurate,” he admits.

“i could tell from the jacket.”

“why does everyone bully my jacket like this?” jacob complains, throwing the red-haired girl a disappointed pout.

“because you could hide a lot of drugs under there,” eunwoo tells him.

“or, like, a dead body,” san adds.

“careful, or it’ll be yours in a minute,” jacob warns light-heartedly. but he takes the oversized so-called ‘stoner jacket’ off and drapes it over the worn out sofa, going over to grab his guitar.

“this is choi yoojung, by the way,” says eunwoo by way of introduction, smile turning into a grin when he glances over at the small girl. “we’re gonna catch a movie after this, so i invited her over.”

“we should probably start practise then.” jacob adjusts his guitar strap and strums a chord. “oh, nice to meet you, by the way, yoojung.”

“you too,” yoojung replies with a cheeky wink, “i don’t wanna buy any weed off you, though.”

jacob can’t help but laugh in disbelief. “she’s really savage, eunwoo,” he says.

“he knows,” says yoojung sweetly.

“would you mind moving your pretty ass off my drum stool for a sec, sweetheart?” san interrupts, twiddling a drum stick between his fingers as he stands over the cymbal. 

“with pleasure.” yoojung skips over to eunwoo and sinks into the sofa instead. “good luck actually getting someone to date you, by the way.”

“hey, less of the sarcasm, please,” says san in mock hurt, “i get loads of hookups.”

“he’s never had a relationship longer than a week, though,” jacob rats him out, instantly siding with yoojung over his best friend after how much san pestered him on their way over.

“come on, that’s not fair--”

“can we start practising now?” eunwoo speaks up, hardly able to hide the look of amusement on his face.

woojin bounds down the steps into the basement and reaches for his bass guitar, holding up his hands at the entire conversation and conflict around him. “can we please?” he says. “i’ve got an hour free, so let’s get this EP ready.”

“amen to that,” says jacob.

he really needs some kind of distraction. with kevin on his mind, and every thought wandering to the fact that he is being blatantly avoided by him, jacob needs anything else to preoccupy his thoughts. and finishing _hong kong time machine_’s very first EP seems like as good a distraction as any.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos are appreciated! but more importantly feel free to leave me a comment and let me know what you think!! :)


	6. kitchen encounter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> jacob heads to the shared kitchen for a late night solo cereal party. when he turns on the light, kevin’s already there.

if there's anything jacob loves more than music, it's cereal. and if jacob was actually friends with his roommate kevin, that's the first thing he would've told him. 

it's also the only thing on jacob's mind as he sneaks back into the dormitory building late one night after getting drinks with the band. the dorms are supposed to have a 10pm curfew, but it's gone eleven when jacob tiptoes his way back inside. he doesn't care. he's never exactly been one for following the rules anyway.

undetected, jacob takes the elevator up to his floor, padding his way along the corridor in his beat-up checkerboard vans that leave faint muddy footprints with every step. a nice big bowl of cereal seems appropriate right now, but he'll have to be careful not to clatter any dishes or rustle the cereal packet too loudly. he's so wrapped up in his own thoughts and cereal fantasies that he doesn't notice the obvious until it's sitting right in front of him, staring him in the face. with a spoon hanging out of its mouth. and a panicked look in its eyes.

jacob hits the light switch.

"shit…!" kevin splutters in surprise, spraying milk all over the kitchen table. he's in the faded beyoncé tour shirt he often wears to bed but pretends not to own, boxer shorts, his varsity jacket, and a pair of fluffy slippers jacob hasn't seen before. 

"jesus, kevin," jacob curses, catching his breath after the jump scare of finding kevin alone in a dark kitchen. "why the hell are you sitting in the dark?"

kevin hurriedly swallows the mouthful of cereal he's got on the go, and wipes the milk off his chin. "you got a problem with me sitting in the dark?" he retorts, though admittedly it's a very weak argument on his end.

"well," jacob struggles for a reasonable response, "yeah, maybe i do if you're gonna scare the shit out of people like that!" 

kevin just glowers at him from the other side of the table, before lowering his gaze and finishing his cereal as fast as he can. jacob heaves a sigh and heads for the kitchen cupboards to whip up a bowl of cereal for himself. as much as neither of them would really like to be eating cereal together in the dormitory kitchen as an almost-midnight feast, here they are stuck in this predicament. so jacob figures that he might as well eat the damn cereal.

"i know you've been avoiding me," jacob says, body turned away from kevin as he pours the milk at the counter instead of the table.

the crunching of kevin's cereal-eating noise stops for a moment.

jacob puts the milk back in the refrigerator. "don't you think we should just talk about what happened instead?" he turns back to kevin and raises an eyebrow at him, leaning against the countertop while munching his way through a fresh bowl of cereal.

kevin's first act of defense is to act completely clueless. "what happened?" he replies in a questioning tone, not quite daring to meet jacob's gaze.

"you obviously remember," jacob tells him dryly, "or why else would you be avoiding me?"

"because you're an ass?"

"other than that."

kevin stands to dump his bowl in the sink, but the almighty jacob bae stands in his way. so he analyses the situation for a moment, in order to find the best plan of attack. "i have no idea what you're talking about," he tries again.

the only problem is, kevin knows exactly what jacob is talking about because jacob is right - he  _ can _ remember everything… in excruciating detail. which is probably the reason why his cheeks burst into flames in such an obvious way at the very thought of their little entanglement that night. and  _ that's _ probably the reason why jacob is smiling (smirking) so fondly (read: patronisingly) at him. kevin wants to smash the porcelain bowl against his head.

(but also maybe kiss him again. not that he'd ever say that out loud.)

"kev-"

"don't call me that."

jacob sighs, and chews on another spoonful of cereal for a few moments before trying again. " _ kevin _ ," he corrects himself, and his heart performs a complicated somersault in his chest because  _ fuck it _ , he might as well say it, "i'm gay."

the spoon falls out of kevin's bowl and lands with a loud clatter on the tiles. 

jacob wonders if  _ now _ was perhaps the best time to tell him that, or if maybe he should've waited. but he figures that he might as well be upfront and honest, and when it comes to the two of them making out on their bedroom floor, whether or not he's actually attracted to men is a pretty important factor to consider. so it makes sense for kevin to know.

(if he couldn't already  _ tell _ .)

"um…" kevin doesn't know what to say, or what to do about the swarm of butterflies that burst out of the cage he calls a heart when jacob says those words. 

"it's not really a big deal," jacob adds quickly, "like, everybody knows. except… maybe you, i guess. which is why i told you."

the words  _ i'm gay, i'm gay, i'm gay,  _ keep repeating like a broken record in kevin's head, and he stares at jacob, unable to look anywhere else. for some reason it makes sense that jacob is gay, just like it makes sense that he dresses like a stoner and plays electric guitar in a band with a dumb name. but jacob being gay holds a lot more gravity than any of those other things, because it means that kevin is now faced with the reality that their kiss (it was more than a kiss, kevin) actually meant something.

jacob's looking at him like he's anxious for a response. "are you… are you okay with it?" he asks hesitantly, because for some reason he actually cares deeply about whether or not kevin cares. 

kevin clears his throat and nods, bending down to pick up the fallen spoon and put it back in his empty bowl. "uh… yeah," he mutters.  _ because so am i.  _ but he can't bring himself to say that part.

"okay." jacob continues eating his cereal, slowly getting to the end of the bowl. "great. thanks."

it's like kevin is frozen to the spot, because the longer he hesitates, the harder it is to muster up the courage to approach jacob and the sink he's standing in front of, ditch his bowl and spoon, and then leave the room. maybe that's because even when he does leave the kitchen and climbs into bed in the dorm, jacob will still be lying only a few feet away, still running laps around kevin's mind.

"hey," jacob adds, treading hesitantly around the subject kevin still refuses to talk about, "i know you don't wanna talk about it, but about the other night, i--"

"do you wanna kiss me?" 

the words are dry in the back of kevin's throat and hardly louder than a whisper on his tongue. everything that comes out of his mouth is unexpected, and a large part of him wants to take it back as soon as he says it. why would he even ask that? he's making it sound like--

kevin feels himself tense up.

yes. he's making it sound like  _ he wants to kiss jacob _ . again.

jacob slowly swallows his last mouthful of cereal and places the bowl down in the sink. his gaze darts from kevin's eyes to his lips, like he's trying to gauge where the question is coming from. "uh…" he answers slowly, "if this is because i make you uncomfortable, then no, i don't want to kiss every guy i meet- "

"it's not," kevin whispers. he stares at the fluffy slippers on his feet. "you don't."

jacob wants to disappear inside the depths of his so-called stoner jacket. kevin's making him nervous, unsure of where he stands and where this conversation is going. in some ways, it's worse than coming out to his mother, because at least she already kind of knew (and didn't really care). with kevin, it's different.

everything is different.

"do you want to… jacob?" kevin asks again in the tiniest voice possible, so quiet that jacob would miss it if he wasn't straining his ears so hard for a response. part of him doesn't want jacob to hear it at all.

he's even more nervous than jacob, cereal bowl shaking in his trembling hands, anxious in the uncertainty of it all though he tries his best to hide it. jacob stares at him, wondering if kevin is serious, and if  _ that night _ meant more than he thinks.

so jacob takes a chance.

he crosses the room and pries the cereal bowl from kevin's grip, putting it safely on the kitchen table. and when kevin looks up, jacob's closing the gap between them with his lips, hands gentle - one cupping kevin's face and the other curling into a fist around the fabric of kevin's varsity jacket. at first kevin feels numb, but his hands instinctively move up against jacob's chest, finding soft t-shirt material under the rough outer layer of his jacket. he responds to every touch, falling into an unpredictable rhythm with the way jacob's mouth moves against his, and they forget that anybody could walk into the room and catch them kissing under the bright kitchen lights. because it's nearly midnight.

because in the heat of the moment, they don't care.

kevin's desperate for more, each kiss never leaving him satisfied. he pushes against jacob, causing him to stumble backwards against the kitchen countertop, bodies pressed together (with kevin only in those boxer shorts). jacob switches their positions, pushing kevin against the edge of the counter, hands moving downwards to grip kevin's thighs and lift him up to sit on the cool surface. kevin wraps his legs around jacob's hips and winds his arms around his neck, leaning down to meet his parted lips with his own. there's the familiar pressure of jacob's grip on his hips, and with every breath another warning from kevin's conscience drifts away.

"kevin," jacob breathes. there's a warm flush that sets him on fire, and for a second maybe it's possible that all of this could lead to more.

but that's what brings kevin's brain back into his head - and makes him realise what he's really gotten himself into.

" _ fuck _ ," he whispers against jacob's lips, untangling himself from jacob's body as quickly as he can. without another word, kevin evacuates the kitchen, pressing his hands to his burning cheeks.

jacob's left standing there, breathing hard. every time he kisses kevin moon it feels like a mistake, but in this moment he's sure he'd sell his soul for another opportunity. 

"jesus, jacob," san exclaims from the doorway as he enters, "you fucking scared me, standing there like that."

jacob stares at him.

"i just got in," san continues, not that jacob asked, "i'm getting a drink." he searches through the communal refrigerator for a can of beer or  _ anything _ with any level of alcohol content, and pops the tab of one open to take a swig. "what were you doing in here anyway?"

"nothing!" jacob shakes his head, though he's clearly out of breath.

san looks him up and down, taking note of his friends's messy hair, puffy lips, and the bulge straining against the crotch of his skinny jeans. "yeah, sure," he says, smirking, "i believe you."

"don't," jacob warns, pushing past him to leave the room.

"don't what?" san laughs. "do you wanna use my shower?"

jacob freezes in the doorway. he has a minor problem to deal with, and dealing with it in his own dorm with kevin lying in bed only a few feet away through a thin wall doesn't seem like the best solution. "what about your roommate?"

"he's asleep by now."

"how would you know? you just got in."

san downs the rest of his drink in one go. "he's always asleep by ten," he replies.

jacob grimaces at the thought of disturbing san's supposedly sweet roommate. "yeah, thanks but no thanks," he tells him, "i'll shower in my own dorm."

"your decision," san shrugs. "i'm sure your roommate will have fun listening to you--"

"shut up," jacob grumbles, and storms off, leaving san laughing to himself in the kitchen. he walks back to the dorm with a hard-on and a heavy heart, wondering if that kiss, like the first time, really meant anything to kevin at all. 


	7. friends with benefits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kevin and jacob put aside their differences when they come to a new arrangement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhhhhhhhh smut warning?

the door to the dorm creaks open and jacob hesitates. he closes his eyes for a brief few seconds, willing away the tension in his tightly-strung muscles, but nothing works. he's still hard, breathing irregular, pulse racing. and there's nothing on his mind but kevin moon.

maybe he'll just sort himself out in the ensuite. yeah, that sounds like a terrific idea - jerking off to the thought of the boy lying in the bed the other side of the bathroom wall. the entire situation is entirely bizarre, because not ten minutes ago they were making out on the kitchen counter, almost grinding into each other, with jacob's tongue down kevin's throat. 

jacob stares at kevin's shifting form. he shouldn't push himself onto the guy, no matter how much he thinks kevin might want it.

so he heads for the bathroom.

the bulb flickers before bursting into light, casting shadows across the tiled floors. jacob glances around the room and bites his lip. it feels weird to do it when he knows kevin is probably listening. although, at the same time it feels kind of hot. in his colossal mind-fuck, jacob feels almost delirious, because there are suddenly a lot of things he's imagining that would be kind of hot, and all of them involve him and kevin, alone on kevin's bed.

"...hey," says a quiet voice from the doorway to the ensuite.

jacob turns, and kevin's standing there, slightly bent over at the waist, uncomfortable and flushed. "hey?" jacob echoes, and for a second he forgets how to breathe.

"i…" kevin chokes on his words, embarrassed. 

as hard as jacob tries not to look, his eyes flick down to the obvious bulge in kevin's boxer shorts, and the dark patch that is slowly spreading at the crotch. "do you need a hand?" jacob says before he can stop himself.

"because you're such an expert?" kevin snaps hotly, a look of humiliation crossing his face.

jacob wants to laugh. he wants to say something reassuring, but his response ends up being, "i'm better than you, at least."

"virgin-ist."

"i am  _ not _ discriminatory towards virgins," jacob disagrees.

"well, i feel personally offended, so you should be punished for it." and the way he says it is so sexy to jacob that he doesn't hold back anymore.

"fucking come here," jacob mutters, rolling his eyes as he takes kevin's face in both hands and kisses him again, parting kevin's lips with his tongue. 

they stumble back into the dorm, kevin's hands pulling off pieces of jacob's clothing as they go and dropping them to the floor without a care. jacob pushes him onto the bed (kevin's, because it's closest to the bathroom) and pins him there, a knee between kevin's thighs. kevin arches his back to reach jacob's lips, letting out little breathy moans when jacob pulls down his shorts. 

"you sure about this?" jacob breathes. his words become muffled against the skin of kevin's neck, trailing open-mouthed kisses across his collarbones. 

all of a sudden, both of them are painfully aware of the implications of this encounter. and the fact that neither of them are drunk.

kevin struggles to get any words out. it's a good job he's on his back, because he's already weak at the knees and desperate for jacob to touch him. "you said you'd give me a hand," he pants, twitching in anticipation. 

jacob pulls back, looking down at the hot, hard, blushing mess he's created beneath him, and he's barely even done anything yet. it's kevin's first time, jacob knows that, and he doesn't want him to make any rash decisions. (though it's hard to think reasonably about this when his dick is screaming at him to  _ do something _ .)

"help me," kevin groans.

( _ god _ , that sound goes straight to jacob's dick.)

"i just…" jacob sighs, because he's desperate to wrap his hands around kevin, fill him up, kiss him deeper, hold him tighter. "i don't want to do anything you'll regret."

kevin lets out a noise of irritation. "i want this," he insists, though jacob's not sure  _ which _ part of his anatomy he's thinking with at this given moment.

"are you--"

" _ yes _ , i'm sure," kevin snaps, squirming painfully beneath him, "so hurry up and fuck me, jake."

_ jake _ . even the nickname sounds hot when it leaves kevin's lips, and jacob is given all the consent he needs. his instincts take over from the million doubts running through his mind, and he unzips his skinny jeans, breathing a sigh of relief when he pulls the tight fabric down to his knees, freeing himself. 

(it's a sudden thought, but he can't remember where he put his half-used tub of lube, and it's a bit late now to knock on san's door and ask to borrow his.)

"are you sure you want me to, like,  _ fuck you _ fuck you?" jacob asks hesitantly, "because i could just give you a handjob, or, like, suck you off or something, and be done with it…"

"fucking hell," kevin huffs, impatient. he pulls the beyoncé tour shirt over his head (yes, jacob  _ did _ notice that it's beyoncé) and lies there on the sheets like an invitation. "i said yes, didn't i? hurry up, i'm so hard."

so jacob finally spits on his hands and prepares himself, leaning down to kiss and bite the skin on kevin's thighs to preoccupy him before he enters, slow and gentle. kevin lets out a gasp as jacob thrusts, fingers reaching out to bury themselves in jacob's bleached hair, or the skin on his back. jacob brushes kevin's dark locks off his forehead and kisses him there, softly, and then down his neck and chest, all the way down to his navel, as his fingers curl around him in his other hand, moving up and down in a steady rhythm. 

it gets faster, and messier, and everything out of kevin's mouth becomes more desperate and a hundred times dirtier - unrepeatable, but it sets jacob on fire. jacob feels kevin come in his hand long before he's finished, and then he's faced with another dilemma.

"kev," he whispers in kevin's ear, maintaining his speed as he does so, "i forgot the condom."

" _ fuck _ the condom," kevin moans. "why do you keep creating problems out of nothing?"

"yeah, but i…" jacob pauses, breathless, "do you mind if i come inside you?"

"you really have to ask?" kevin scoffs, incredulously, because having this conversation this matter-of-fact feels ridiculous when jacob is literally fucking him at the same time.

"yes, i do, actually," jacob says, mouth hot against kevin's jaw, "i don't want to do anything you don't like."

"well, you have my permission to do anything you want to me."

those words are like music to jacob's ears. their hips collide again and again, and jacob's sure he's found the right spot because kevin can't stifle the strangled cries that escape his throat. he tries his best to muffle them but jacob pulls that hand away,  _ wanting _ to hear it. he doesn't care if the dorm next door to theirs can't get to sleep because they can hear everything through the thin walls. jacob comes with a shuddery breath and stays there for a moment, just lying skin against skin in the heat of kevin's embrace. it seems impossible, that they could go from fighting and arguing and avoiding each other… to this.

"shit," kevin mutters, lying there all fucked up and naked under jacob, like there could be stars in his eyes. 

"yeah," jacob mumbles. if they could stay in this moment forever, he doesn't think he would mind.

kevin's still spun out but he manages to ask in a small voice, "can we sleep in your bed?"

"mhm?"

"my sheets are sticky."

"oh."

at first, jacob doesn't want to move. it feels nice, to be connected to kevin, closer than ever before, not fighting or yelling at each other for once. but he eventually agrees, pulling out and cleaning up with the shirt he pulled off somewhere between all of that. he cleans kevin up too, without him even asking, as gentle as ever, and scoops him up in his arms to place him down in his own bed, under clean sheets. 

there's something even weirder about lying in bed with kevin, naked, curled up against each other, legs entangled. somehow it's a stranger feeling than he got whilst fucking kevin, because it tugs at his heartstrings and makes him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. 

as they fall asleep, jacob wonders if kevin feels the same.

(he doesn't.)

"jacob," kevin says into the darkness, knowing that jacob is lying awake beside him, "this was a one time thing."

(or if he does, he doesn't show it.)

"okay," jacob says softly. "i'll take your sheets to the laundrette tomorrow. i don't have class."

"okay," kevin utters. and then, "thank you."

*

  
  


the following day, jacob fulfills his promise and strips kevin's bed to take all of his bedding to the laundrette. he'd take san with him to pass the time in conversation while the sheets wash, but he's determined to avoid him - after the state san saw him in last night in the kitchen.

however, san has a nasty way of turning up when you least expect him to, or when you least want him to.

"jacob!" he yells, approaching jacob like a cannonball and slinging an arm over his shoulders, "my little gay boy! how was last night?"

he's waggling his eyebrows now and it's pissing jacob off so he elbows him in the ribs. "shut up, nothing happened," he tells him shortly.

"nothing happened, my ass," san laughs, chortling at jacob's obvious lie. "if nothing happened, why are you washing your roommate's sheets?"

"how do you--" jacob clears his throat, furrows his brows. "these are mine."

"ha ha, jacob, i'm not that dumb," san drawls. "i've been in your room plenty of your times, and you sleep on gray. plain  _ gray _ . so don't go lying to me that you've bought these lovely blue sheets because you haven't. and you know why that is?"

jacob sighs. "why?"

"because you spend all your money on weed."

"i literally  _ do not _ ," jacob argues as they enter the laundrette and find an empty washing machine they can use. jacob shoves the sheets in all at once, trying not to think about what happened last night, or the fact that the sheets are stained with both him and kevin and the emotions that spilled out of them on that bed.

"whatever, i'm not going to fight you on that one," says san. he perches on the edge of the counter in the middle of the room, swinging his legs. "i wanna know all the details. 'cause i'm really curious to know if you prefer to give or take--"

"oh my god, shut  _ up _ ."

"you know, personally, i always top," san continues, not caring whether anyone else is in the laundrette or whether they can hear him. "i don't think i'd ever let a guy fuck me."

jacob forcibly clamps a hand over his friend's mouth, begging the entire universe to make him stop. "if you don't stop talking, i'm going to quit the band," he threatens.

san holds his hands up in defence, stifling a laugh. "whatever you say, big man."

grumbling, jacob joins him on the countertop. "anyway, do we have band practise tonight?"

"nah," san says, "it got cancelled 'cause eunwoo's got a hot date that he can't get out of."

"what, with yoojung?"

"nope. doyeon."

"who?"

san stares at him. "the really hot one," he says. "she was at the bar that one time we played? tall-ish, long hair?" when jacob still seems clueless, san just shakes his head and sighs. "nevermind, it's not like you pay attention to girls anyway."

"no shit, sherlock."

"anyway," san continues, "apparently he's going for dinner with her family, so it sounds like a pretty big deal."

"geez," jacob marvels. "i thought he was pretty close with yoojung, though."

"mhm, me too," san agrees. "but i suppose when you look like eunwoo, everyone's throwing themselves at you so i can't blame him. i'd love to be eunwoo for a day, you know."

"yeah," jacob snorts, "i know."   
  


*

  
  


as it turns out, jacob's fling with kevin is  _ not _ a one time thing.

or at least, he's pretty sure that's the case when he's fucking kevin into the wall, or the floor, or the soft mattress of the bed, numerous times over the next couple of weeks. 

kevin didn't intend for this to happen. after his first time, he meant what he said when all of  _ that _ wasn't happening again. but when jacob stepped out of the ensuite in nothing but a towel just the next day, kevin pounced on him again, begging to be fucked. and so it began - their fragile relationship that was stuck somewhere between strangers and lovers, and relies mostly on sex. kevin didn't ever think he'd start something like this, being friends with benefits. but he can't get enough of jacob. even when he's screaming jacob's name into the pillow he still wants  _ more _ .

in between all of that, they strike up a tenuous friendship. kevin tidies jacob's shoes, jacob tries not to leave his shit lying around, and fights are no longer resolved in sulking tempers but in hot, breathy moans against each other's skin. kevin knows it's not perfect, that none of this is a good idea, but it feels more than perfect when jacob's inside him, filling the empty cavity in his chest with lust. 

it's too late. kevin's already addicted.

one night, when it's lighter in the evenings, jacob joins kevin in the shower and pulls the glass door shut behind him. it's like there are no boundaries anymore, and kevin loves it. he turns the heat up until the water runs hot and the cool glass steams up with condensation, and he lets jacob kiss him and bite him and touch him, until he's on his knees. 

"can i?" jacob asks, before sinking his teeth into the wet skin on kevin's thigh. 

" _ please _ ," kevin begs, overcome with pleasure, and jacob takes him all in between his lips.

there's a knock.

there's a _fucking knock_ on the door to the dorm. kevin wants to personally strangle whoever it is, who dares to interrupt when he's so hot and hard in jacob's mouth.

"jake." kevin's fingers are tangled in jacob's wet hair, and they grip more tightly now, concerned about  _ who the fuck is at the door _ .

jacob stops, mouth too full to speak.

"there's someone at the door," kevin squeaks out.

_ "kevin?" _ calls the voice at the dormitory door,  _ "are you in there?" _

"shit, it's wooyoung," kevin curses. "hurry up so i can answer it!" 

so jacob finishes up and swallows, leaving kevin satisfied and impressed, deals with his own little problem, and they both dry off as quickly as they can once they're out of the shower. kevin pulls on a pair of sweatpants and jacob pulls on his boxers and an oversized hoodie.

"kev," jacob blurts quickly as kevin's about to answer the door, "you might wanna put on a shirt."

he's nodding to the reddish mark he's left on the skin between kevin's neck and shoulder. kevin curses again, throws on the nearest sweatshirt (which happens to be jacob's) and finally opens the door to the dorm.

"oh, hey, wooyoung," he says casually, "is everything okay?"

(jacob throws himself onto the bed and pretends to be sleeping.)

"hey," wooyoung blinks, "were you in the shower?"

kevin laughs, albeit a little nervously. "uh, yeah," he tells him, "sorry i couldn't come to the door sooner."

"it's okay," wooyoung smiles. he's in his pyjamas - the blue ones with the fluffy white clouds on them - and is holding a pillow, his phone, and a spare hoodie. "i don't wanna disturb your roommate or anything, but is it okay if i sleep with you?"

jacob starts coughing loudly, surprised at the phrasing of that question.

"uh…" kevin stares at his friend. he can feel the water dripping off his hair and down the back of the sweatshirt.

wooyoung bites his lip, looking apologetic. "my roommate has someone over," he admits, "and they're… um, well… kind of busy."

"oh, right," kevin says, opening the door wider to let him in. "sure, then. jacob's, uh… already sleeping, i guess…"

jacob throws him a wink when wooyoung isn't looking. kevin shoots him a warning look.

wooyoung climbs into kevin's bed, holding the pillow to his chest, and he and kevin lie side by side in the dark of the room. 

"does he… do this a lot?" kevin asks.

wooyoung shrugs and snuggles into kevin's shoulder, while jacob lies awake and listens to their conversation. "this is the first time he's had someone over while i was home," he says, "but i'm pretty sure he does it a lot when i'm in class, because whenever i get in the room always smells like sex."

kevin wonders how wooyoung knows what that smells like.

and whether he can tell that their room always smells like it too now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this was like.. a lot  
if my smut writing was like really bad, its because i haven't written it in that much detail before (although i suppose i could've gone into a lot more detail than that) so pls be kind to me and leave me a comment :)


	8. dirty laundry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> wooyoung reluctantly returns to his dorm, while kevin wakes up jacob. meanwhile, san struggles with self control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's another smut warning, folks.  
(if you want, you can skip the middle section - after the first line break.)

_ 118 _ . 

wooyoung has stared at the number for what feels like an eternity now, or at least a few minutes longer than he should have to. it’s a tiny laminated thing, slotted into place on his dorm room door, and it shouldn’t make him hesitate.

and it doesn’t. not really. 

it’s actually what’s  _ behind  _ the door that makes wooyoung freeze in his tracks, and pace back and forth in front of his own room, trying to muster up the courage to enter. he doesn’t know exactly what he’ll walk in on if he opens the door, and the uncertainty feels awkward. it’s been weeks now since the start of the semester, and he’s tried his best to get along with his roommate and be considerate and obliging. the only problem with this approach to getting along is that his roommate doesn’t know the meaning of the word  _ considerate _ .

wooyoung buries his face in his hands and rubs his eyes. “this is stupid,” he mutters under his breath. it’s literally his own room. he should be allowed to use it whenever he wants.

he already feels bad enough about crashing at kevin’s last night. maybe that’s wooyoung’s problem — he’s  _ too _ considerate. 

just as wooyoung has worked himself up to swiping his room key and heading inside, the door opens and a short girl comes out. feeling flustered at the sight of her, wooyoung bows all the way down to ninety degrees, which means he doesn’t catch a good look at the girl. he immediately straightens up again and face palms, watching her disappear down the corridor. 

_ jesus _ , he feels like such an idiot.

wooyoung catches the door just before it shuts, jamming his slipper into the doorframe. he takes a breath to compose himself and slips into the dorm. the room is dim, a cool breeze filtering through the blinds at the window, and it smells exactly like wooyoung expected it to. one of the beds is neat, untouched, and the other is a sprawl of messy sheets and long limbs.

at the sound of the heavy dormitory door slamming shut, san rolls over and tangles himself in the sheets. he’s all dark hair and bare shoulders as he lets out an early morning sort of moan that indicates he’d rather not be awake. wooyoung stands there and bites his lip, eyes gliding over inch after inch of naked skin. 

“oh,” san murmurs, as he makes out wooyoung through bleary eyes, “morning.”

“mhm.” wooyoung just dumps his phone and his spare hoodie on his own bed, kicking off his slippers so they land somewhere amongst the storage boxes he keeps underneath it. 

he doesn’t really feel up for a conversation with san right now. he tears his eyes away from san’s lithe yet sculpted figure which is one step away from being exposed entirely. shouldn’t he be angrier at him? it’s in the resident handbook, for god’s sake — you’re not supposed to have people over. but for some reason, wooyoung can’t find it in him to be angry at san. he’s more… exasperated.  _ tired _ . 

san stretches out across the bed and turns to bury his face in the pillow, shutting out the light that peeks through the gaps in the blinds. “what time is it?”

it’s early, and wooyoung has a 9am lecture to get to. he’s already borrowed the toilet in kevin’s en-suite and made his breakfast in the kitchen  _ before  _ brushing his teeth, which goes against everything wooyoung stands for. he turns his back to san, pulls out a clean pair of jeans from his drawer and starts getting changed.

“half eight,” he says eventually, seeing his phone screen light up with a notification. 

san lets out a groan that’s so sensual it goes right through wooyoung (though he doesn’t show it). he glances up and squints across the room, making out wooyoung’s form in the half light. his eyes glide over lines and curves, honey skin and the tightly-strung muscles in wooyoung’s thighs. time stops as san watches wooyoung change, half asleep, eyes half closed, captivated in his semi-conscious fascination. 

wooyoung exhales, feeling the growing pressure of the silence in the room. he pulls on a fresh set of underwear and his third-favourite pair of skinny jeans — the light-wash ones with the knees torn so far open they’re bordering on ridiculous. “did you have a nice time?” he asks tightly.

“not really.”

“oh?” 

“she didn’t seem that into it, to be honest,” san admits. his gaze is still fixed on the way wooyoung fills out those jeans. “like,  _ way _ too much teeth. four out of ten.”

wooyoung can’t believe he crashed in kevin’s dorm for a  _ four out of ten _ . he buttons up his jeans and tugs his pyjama shirt over his head to change it for something half-decent. he tries not to think about san and that girl last night, or the sounds san makes when he’s running high on dopamine, or san right now — all naked and hot, and spread out under his sheets. except, now he’s thinking about all three of those things at once, and it makes the blood rush through his veins. 

“great,” wooyoung mutters. he searches through his drawers for a shirt, but nearly everything’s on the floor in a huge pile due to go for laundry.

san's eyes skim over the bare skin on wooyoung's back, and the taut muscles in his stout frame. he wonders what it would feel like to run his hands all over that body. the tone in wooyoung's voice cuts his thoughts short. "you're mad," san states.

"i'm not." wooyoung gives up on his hunt for a clean shirt and ends up pulling on the same hoodie as yesterday. 

"you  _ are _ ."

"for god's sake," wooyoung sighs, running a hand through his bleached roots, "why isn't anything clean?"

"you're allowed to be mad at me, you know." san watches as his roommate paces around like he's in the middle of some sort of stress nightmare. "i  _ know _ i'm sort of a dick—" 

"yeah, you are!" wooyoung blurts out, whirling around to face him. he tries to keep his eyes fixed on san's as he exhales. "...but i'm not  _ mad _ ."

(the thing is, if it  _ was _ a stress induced nightmare, san wouldn't be there lying a couple of feet away, naked, because that sounds more like a sexual fantasy to wooyoung. his stomach lurches at the thought.)

san shrugs and turns onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. "okay."

wooyoung crosses the room to pick up a few of the beer cans and take-out boxes that litter the floor, shoving them all in the overflowing recycling bin in the corner. the whole room smells like sex and cigarettes, but san's side of the room  _ reeks _ of it. 

" _ god _ , open a window or something," wooyoung utters. he slips his fingers through the blinds to push open another window, letting a stream of cooler air into the room in an attempt to ventilate it.

he's starting to feel more like san's mother than his roommate — waking him up in the morning and telling him to tidy up after himself. it’s hard to keep going like this, trying his best to get along. wooyoung doesn’t have it in him to tell san off properly. it’s taking every effort to try and be nice.

“i can take your stuff to the laundry today,” san says suddenly. he swings a leg out of bed and jumps groggily to his feet as wooyoung looks over.

“shit, san!” wooyoung curses, getting a very clear, full frontal view of  _ everything _ . “put some pants on, at  _ least _ .”

san scrambles into yesterday’s sweatpants, nearly getting stuck in them and tripping over his own feet. he regains his balance and looks around the room, rubbing his eyes. wooyoung’s dirty laundry is all in a neat pile at the foot of his bed, and it’s starting to look like the size of his entire closet. 

“don’t you have class?” wooyoung asks rather pointedly, trying not to raise his voice too much.

“well… yeah,” san answers, “but i’m gonna skip. hey, when was the last time you actually  _ did  _ laundry, by the way?”

wooyoung lets out a soft huff. “i’m… busy with hockey,” he mutters, kicking the team uniform onto the pile. he knows his laundry situation is desperate, because he’s running out of time to wash his kit before practise that week. “i don’t need your help.”

“it’s not a big deal,” san snorts. he stands there watching, sweatpants slung low over his hips, arms crossed over his chest. “i need to wash my sheets anyway, so...”

wooyoung doesn’t even have to look over. he’s already thinking about san and that girl again, their bodies moving against each other on those white sheets last night. the idea of san’s touch is imprinted on his mind, and he can’t get the thought out of his head of him fucking that girl into his mattress.

“don’t bother,” wooyoung says quietly.

“but i could take your darks, at least,” san argues. “you’ve got a lot of shit, but… i don’t know, i could save you one trip—"

“i said don’t bother, okay?” wooyoung grabs his backpack, and a textbook from his bedside table, and his phone charger as an afterthought. “just forget it. i need to go.”

san starts after him as wooyoung heads for the door. “look, i’m sorry about last night,” he says.

wooyoung shoves his feet into a pair of sneakers, leaning a palm against the dorm door to hold his balance. “whatever,” he sighs. he knows he’ll be late for class if he leaves a second later. the lecture hall is on the other side of the campus.

“i guess i should’ve given you a heads up—”

shaking his head, wooyoung doesn’t bother with his laces and heads out. “forget it, san!” he repeats, and slams the door in san’s face.

san blinks, and lets out a huge yawn. damn, it’s too early for this — what he really needs is a smoke and another drink. unfortunately, every crumpled can of beer is empty, and after a brief search he’s convinced the girl from last night stole the last of his cigarettes. he mentally bumps her down to a three out of ten.

“fucking hell,” san yawns again, trying and failing to shake off the persistent headache that’s been making his head pound from the moment he woke up. 

wooyoung’s dirty laundry is still on a pile on the floor. san stares at it, wondering whether it’s the real source of their not-quite-an-argument. he crashes back in his own bed, with full intentions of doing  _ all _ of wooyoung’s washing for him later on. 

just as soon as he gets a few more hours in.

  
  
  
  
  
  


*

  
  
  
  
  


the minute wooyoung leaves the dorm that morning, kevin rolls over and stares at jacob's sleeping form. from his side of the room, jacob’s nothing more than a lump with legs under a muted gray duvet cover.

"jake," he whispers. 

it’s not yet 9am, and kevin knows for a fact that neither of them have a lecture before 10 today. he crawls out of bed and pads across the room in his sweatpants and jacob’s sweatshirt that he threw on yesterday — which is nearly threadbare with several holes emerging, and is too big since that’s how jacob likes to wear most of his clothes. kevin climbs onto jacob’s bed and wriggles under the covers, basking in the warmth of jacob’s body heat. there’s a need to continue, if not finish, whatever they started last night before they were interrupted. 

“hey,” kevin says, hooking a leg over jacob’s and curling into his side. it’s a little too domestic, so much so that it makes kevin’s heart skip a beat.

“mhm,” jacob murmurs as he stirs, shifting slightly to snake an arm over kevin’s waist, “morning, kev.”

it's nice not to be fighting, just lying their together, limbs entwined with kevin's head on jacob's chest. for a moment, it feels like kevin could say anything, pour out his heart in the hazy silence of a weekday morning. but he doesn't. because kevin moon definitely  _ doesn't _ have a whole set of trust issues that he isn't ready to address yet, and he isn't about to ruin the aftermath of last night's shower escapade with his stupid problems.

"sorry about wooyoung," he says eventually, when jacob's snuggled in so close he's got both arms around him and a knee between kevin's thighs.

"it's not your fault."

kevin reaches a hand down to play with the hem of jacob's hoodie. "i know," he says, "but he interrupted us."

"kevin," jacob sighs contentedly, "we don't have to fuck." he runs his hands up and down kevin's back in a way that feels like a personal massage, but better.

"you always make me feel good," kevin says, slipping his hand under jacob's hoodie and running his fingers over the warm skin underneath. "i should return the favour—"

"you don't owe me anything," jacob interrupts softly. his hands travel up to kevin's hair so that he can weave them through the dark tresses. 

"i want to," kevin insists, his voice all breathy as he edges the waistband of jacob's boxers further down his hips. "let me suck you off, jake."

it's that voice and those words that bypass jacob's brain and go straight to his dick. there's a heat that spreads across his skin and through his veins when kevin's hands roam lower and tug his underwear down to his knees. jacob gasps when kevin touches him, because kevin's hands are colder than he expected. kevin throws the sheets back, letting in a shock of cool air, before he gets to work playing around with what he can do to make jacob harder, begging for more than just friction, hot and weak and waiting. he feels jacob stiffen, and wonders how long it would take to get him off with just his hands.

" _ fuck _ ," jacob groans, turning onto his back, "you sure you were a virgin a few weeks ago?"

"shut up," kevin says, rolling his eyes. "don't be so virgin-phobic. unless you want me to leave you here like this."

" _ no _ ," jacob breathes. he looks up at kevin, who's on his hands and knees and threatening to leave. 

"that's what i thought," kevin says smugly. his smile fades as he stares at jacob's dick and suddenly begins to panic.

"need a step by step tutorial?" jacob asks, somehow turned on by how determined yet clueless kevin seems to be.

"no!" kevin frowns at him and bites his lip, which is a sight that makes jacob want to groan with anticipation, but he holds it in.

"hey, just calm down and breathe for a second," jacob says gently, reaching out a hand for one of kevin's, which are still somewhere around his upper thighs.

"i'm not a fucking loser, jacob," kevin snaps, wanting to retract when jacob takes his hand. "i can give someone a fucking blowjob…"

"it's okay to be nervous when you're doing it for the first time."

"i'm not nervous!" kevin insists.

"and you don't  _ have _ to do it now," jacob reminds him, meeting kevin's anxious gaze.

"i  _ want _ to."

"okay," jacob says. he shifts up the bed to prop himself up on his pillow, still holding tight to kevin's hand. "you'll be fine. just take it slow and don't bite me."

"ha, ha," kevin drawls. 

but he manages to work up the confidence to go for it, and take jacob in between his lips. jacob inhales and tilts his head back, as kevin's tongue moves and he gets into a slow rhythm that drives him crazy. 

"you're doing so good," jacob mumbles, closing his eyes, knowing that kevin needs no encouragement, but would probably appreciate the positive feedback all the same.

kevin fights the urge to scoff, because what is this — a vocational skill class? but with his mouth full of jacob, all he can do to respond is move faster, and faster until jacob's letting out the filthiest sounds that kevin's ever heard slip between his lips. it makes his whole body rush with adrenaline.

"wait, kev, i'm nearly there," jacob says breathlessly. when kevin doesn't stop, he reaches out with his free hand to tangle it in kevin's hair and get his attention. "hey, i don't want to come in your mouth."

kevin pulls back and wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. "i don't mind," he says.

"i know," jacob says, "but i'd rather fuck you instead. if you're up for it."

kevin almost laughs. " _ if you're up for it _ ," he mutters, sitting back on his heels. 

"well, i'm just asking."

"i'm not opposed to the idea," kevin says. but there's a smirk spreading across his lips and he's already reaching to pull down his sweatpants.

it's only now that he notices how jacob's still holding his hand, and the way their fingers are loosely intertwined. it makes kevin's heart flip in a way that scares him. but he's quickly filling that empty feeling with the prospect of jacob, letting go to kick his sweatpants off and switch places.

"you weren't bad, by the way," jacob says, "for your first time."

"oh, really?" kevin lies on his front and stretches out to grab the lube and a condom from jacob's top drawer. "what would you give me, then? out of ten."

jacob takes the tub from him and twists open the lid, his breathing still rapid as he first rolls the condom on. “out of ten?” he repeats, smiling all of a sudden. “uh… i don't know, maybe a seven?”

“a seven?” kevin demands, twitching in anticipation as he listens to the sound of jacob coating his fingers in the silence of the room. “is that it?”

“i mean…” jacob's brows furrow as he considers it, while slipping in one finger, and then two, to work kevin open. “i don't know,” he says again, “it's not as if i've exactly done this hundreds of times either.”

kevin gasps at jacob's touch, and then lets out a moan as he enters. “okay,” he says, his breathing laboured, “fair enough. but a  _ seven _ ?”

“a seven isn't  _ bad _ .”

“yeah,” kevin grunts, fingers curling around himself as he grinds his hips into the mattress, “but it's not fucking fantastic—  _ fuck _ …  _ jacob _ —” 

jacob thrusts harder, working up a faster pace that drives kevin wild. “alright,” he gives in, weak to the way kevin moans for him, “just for you, i'll make it an eight. there’s always room for improvement.”

kevin's satisfied with that, and he comes with a shudder shortly before jacob comes inside him, and they lay there together in a sweaty, fucked up silence. birds chirp through the open window, and cool air settles on naked skin. it's peaceful in the heat of a release, and the room is filled with nothing but the sounds of heavy breathing. eventually, jacob pulls out and tidies up, and they take a shower together before class. 

and neither of them think to worry at any point, whether wooyoung would have come back before they were done.

  
  
  
  
  


*

  
  
  
  


jacob takes his sheets to the laundrette after class. it's become such a regular occurence by now that it's almost embarrassing, and he's convinced someone will have noticed how often he goes.

“oh, hey,” he says, spotting san swinging his legs from one of the tables while he waits.

san glances over and raises a hand to wave. jacob opens the washing machine next to his and shoves the gray sheets in. he puts in the right amount of cash and sticks it on a hot wash.

“why are you here?” he asks, joining san on the table. “i didn't think you  _ did _ laundry.”

“yeah, neither did i.” 

jacob watches the sheets spin round and round in the machine, his gray ones on the left and san’s white ones on the right. “rough night?” he says, glancing over at his best friend. 

san tucks his legs up on the table, knees to his chest, and leans against the wall behind him. he’s in a set of gray sweatpants and a hoodie that almost matches but is just about the wrong shade, and he has the cords pulled tight so the hood fits snugly around his face. he’s unusually quiet to jacob, which means either he’s riding out the worst hangover of his life, or something isn’t right.

“yeah,” he says flatly, pouting his lips. “three out of ten.”

jacob lets out a laugh in disbelief. “damn,” he says, drawing out the word. “i know we all joke that you’ll fuck anything… but a  _ three _ ?”

“shut the fuck up,  _ jacob _ ,” san says, the usual bite in his voice returning for a few brief moments. he rubs his eyes and tries to wake up properly, blinking under the bright LED strips overhead. “god, it really wasn’t worth it…”

the washing machine directly next to san’s stops spinning. it’s stuffed full of clothes, and a blue hockey kit surfaces to the front, pressing against the door. and no one in the entire laundrette jumps up to claim it. 

except san, who rolls sluggishly off the table to open the washer and dump its entire contents in the dryer immediately after. the last time jacob checked, san wasn’t on the hockey team. and he still isn’t, to the best of his knowledge.

“you didn’t tell me you were taking up ice hockey,” jacob remarks.

“i’m not,” san grunts. he slots in a few coins and slams the dryer door shut. “it’s my roommate’s.”

_ oh yeah… _ jacob had forgotten san's roommate is on the ice hockey team. he watches the uniform spin around a few times in the dryer, and suddenly all he can picture is san telling his roommate to keep the kit on while he throws him onto the bed and— 

“jesus, not that,” san says, noticing the way jacob's eyes go wide. “whatever you're imagining right now, stop.”

jacob stares at him. “you really didn't—?”

“no!” san hisses. “i didn't fuck my roommate last night, even though i want to every time he walks in the fucking room.”

“ _ san _ .”

“fuck off, don't look at me like that,” san grumbles, tucking his legs back up on the counter. “it's driving me crazy. i swear he's the only person on campus that won't let me fuck them.”

“really?”

“it's so unfair.”

jacob frowns, watching his sheets in the washer directly in front of him. “have you actually  _ asked _ him?”

“of course not,” san snaps.

“but then—”

“you might have trouble remembering,  _ jacob _ ,” san says, leaning back against the wall, “but most people aren't gay, and most guys don't want my dick up their ass.”

“so—”

“ _ so _ ,” san goes on, like he's explaining the whole affair to a five year old, “there's no point in asking. san doesn't get rejected. he rejects.”

“why are you talking in the third person?” jacob wrinkles his nose and gets out his phone to check his texts. 

there's a couple from eunwoo, who says that band practise  _ is _ on tonight, and he'd better get his ass down there and actually show or eunwoo will kill him in his sleep. other than that, there's one from his mom asking what he wants for his birthday, even though it's still a few weeks away yet. 

(jacob wonders if there's one from kevin, but he quickly realises he doesn't even have kevin's number.)

“look,” says san, shuffling a little further away from jacob, “i don’t expect  _ you  _ to get it, of all people.”

“hey—”

“and i don’t wanna talk about it anymore,” san adds. he sticks his earphones in and turns on a hard rock track that leaks out of his ears. he closes his eyes and leans against the wall, cosy in the fabric of his sweats. “wake me up when my sheets are done.”

jacob doesn’t really have anything to say to that, seeing as san has effectively ended the whole conversation. he gets out his phone while he waits for the laundry, and tries to be productive by jotting down a few lyric ideas in his notes. as woojin keeps reminding them all — the EP won’t write itself. and jacob knows he’s been distracted lately. he sighs as he thinks of the time he could spend with kevin later — time that will actually be taken up by band practise. 

_ the way you look in my t-shirt, _

_ it’s like you love making me hurt _

jacob sighs. he's got to get kevin out of his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been a while lol but thank you for the lovely comments on this fic :)) decided to write some more, so here you go i guess !!
> 
> i wanna write more tbz & ateez so let me know what ship you're craving <3


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